


carry these weighted bricks all the way home

by mollivanders



Category: Lost
Genre: F/M, Gen, On the Run, Post-Series, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-16
Updated: 2011-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-29 17:50:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollivanders/pseuds/mollivanders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been months, if she lies to herself (closer to a year at this point). All the same, he's slid into her booth, crushing his cigarette in the ashtray before he meets her surprised eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	carry these weighted bricks all the way home

**Author's Note:**

> **Title: carry these weighted bricks all the way home**  
>  Fandom: LOST  
> Rating: PG-13  
> Characters: Kate/Sawyer, Cassidy, Aaron  
> Author's Note: Word Count - 651  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

It’s been months, if she lies to herself (closer to a year at this point). All the same, he's slid into her booth, crushing his cigarette in the ashtray before he meets her surprised eyes.

“Hey, Freckles.”

He’s tanner than she remembers, decides she doesn’t care why (doesn’t _want_ to know).

“I was just leaving,” she says, because she doesn’t care, before he grabs at her wrist. She could shake him off, if she cared. She has before.

“Nothing’s changed then,” he says in that gravelly voice she still remembers.

Twists away from him.

“What did you expect?”

 

Another year goes by and Kate stops looking for him, wonders if the times before were chance or if he’s finally given up on chasing her. It’s strange, being the roadrunner without a coyote. The marshal’s dead; maybe Sawyer is too.

She actually spots him first this time, waiting in line for a coffee at the airport. Kate swears, promises herself, if he’s heading out she’ll stay here.

Because she doesn’t care and it’s better this way, better not seeing any familiar faces, better sending postcards home and not getting any in return, better not knowing what the hell anyone’s up to.

It’s not the first time she wonders whether it’s Miles or Claire who’s set him on her (doesn’t even consider it might be his idea).

For old time’s sake though, she waits for him at a table, knows he’ll spot her. She lets him set his coffee down, lean across the table to press a chaste kiss by her ear.

“James,” she levels at him, and he has the decency to flinch. “What brings you here?” And because she can’t help it, adds “business or pleasure?”

“Little bit of both, I expect,” he answers, no hint of a smile anywhere. He’s changing and she’s not there to see it. “Same as always?” she asks and there’s a flicker of recognition.

(She lets him follow her to the bathroom, lock the door and press her against the stall, hot breath against her neck and rough hands familiar on her skin.)

He boards a flight; she doesn’t.

 

She makes it home for Aaron’s tenth birthday, a hastily wrapped gift in her bag. It’s not about who else will be there, but she’s surprised to see who isn’t.

Cassidy gives her a knowing glance when Kate stops searching the yard for someone not there, passes her a slice of cake.

Aaron sits next to her and swings his feet, nearly touching the grass. He tells her about school and asks what he should get his new friend Tommy for Christmas. He calls her _Aunt Kate_ and she holds it together, tells him Tommy would probably like a plane set and catches the last bus out of town.

She doesn’t quite forgive him for not showing up (doesn’t forgive herself either).

 

It’s a nothing day in the middle of a nothing year; another war, another recession, another presidency. Kate’s pushing forty and just doesn’t care anymore; starts looking to run somewhere off the map.

He’s not coming and she’s not going to wait for him anymore.

She never figured it’d be when she finally left he would catch up to her, lounging in the aisle next to her and casually pouring himself a drink (winks at her when she sits down, blood beating in her veins so loud he must be able to hear).

His fingers brush her skin when he passes her the drink and she doesn’t shake, swallows it in one beat and hands it back (not to touch him again, never that, but she can feel his skin all the same).

“So where to this time?” he asks and Kate sighs, meets his gaze. There’s a smile there this time and despite herself, she matches it with her own.

“Anywhere,” she answers (takes his outstretched hand when the plane takes off).

_Finis_


End file.
